#Fic: to forgive and forget

[p4nishers]

there's something i need to say and yall can boo me for it but deep in my heart i'll always know i'm correct: crowley already forgave aziraphale. like already would take him back at one flutter of his eyelashes. that's all.

[flowercrowngods]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 (these make one big story, you won't understand this part without the others)

day 07: free space a happy ending

Wakefulness embraces him so slowly and gently that Steve’s not entirely sure he isn’t dreaming when he sees Eddie lying next to him, watching him with an easy smile as his fingers tap out a slow beat on his pillow. Steve looks at him, blinking away the remnants of sleep, not quite daring to do anything more than that for fear of it being a dream after all, scared that Eddie would disappear if Steve reached out to touch. 

But then Eddie’s smile widens. “Good morning, sunshine.” 

Steve gasps a little and moves his hand to Eddie’s cheek, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear, his breath hitching when Eddie leans into the touch. 

“You’re here,” he whispers, his gaze wandering over Eddie’s features, taking it all in and looking for any indication that this is a dream. 

Eddie hums. “And you’re pretty.” 

It hits him out of nowhere, the open sincerity in Eddie’s voice, the fondness in his eyes, the honesty in everything about him. The love, open and free now — or getting there, at least. It’s still so raw, though, so new, that Steve doesn’t know how to handle it yet. 

“Shut up,” he huffs once he’s caught his breath, rolling over to hide his face and the way his cheeks are heating up. He rolls right into Eddie's chest, though, and he's so warm, so close, smells so good that Steve wants nothing more than to bury his face in his neck and stay there for the rest of the morning. Or maybe the rest of his life.

The reflex to pull away is there. The urge to run and hide, to laugh it off, to freeze up and find something else to do, something to occupy his hands and stop them from reaching for Eddie. Years and years of muscle memory telling Steve to leave. 

But Eddie's arms come around him, holding him close and pulling him even closer. And Steve breathes him in, remembering that it can be okay. Remembering that they get a chance now. 

Remembering the words. 

What are you doing? 

Changing the world. 

So he tries that, too. Changing the world. He tries by winding his arms around Eddie, too, and breathing in again and again, learning that Eddie won't disappear if he does. 

Slowly, he dares to move his arms, stroking along Eddie's back in slow, gentle patterns, lulling himself into a safety he hasn't felt in a while. Maybe ever. At some point Eddie begins to hum, and Steve thinks that it's just another one of his audible smiles, inviting Steve and the rest of the world to join in if they're so inclined. But then he detects a familiar melody in the vibrations of Eddie's neck against his skin, and he holds his breath to find out what it is. 

His heart jumps when he recognises the song as one he used to listen to on repeat like a lovesick fool around the time his feelings for Eddie turned into something more, something better, something infinitely worse. 

It skips and he forgets how to breathe as he lets his hands travel over Eddie's back, slowly and tentatively daring to slip underneath his shirt and touch his skin. 

Eddie begins to sing, then, and Steve wonders if he's even been in love with him before, because nothing of what he's ever felt compares to Eddie's gentle, hoarse, sleep-rough voice as he sings Somebody to Steve, to their little bubble, or to the world outside. 

"I want somebody to share, share the rest of my lifeShare my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details."

He closes his eyes as he listens, focusing on the vibrations, on the warmth, on the closeness, on how this moment is everything he's never even dared to want. Everything so perfect that he couldn't even dream it up. 

Everything. You're everything. 

He needs to be closer still, so be buries his nose in Eddie's neck and breathes him in, tangling their legs, filled with a breathless kind of joyful bliss when Eddie's breath hitches, too, and he stumbles over the words of the second verse as Steve tries to climb into his skin. 

"I want somebody who cares for me passionatelyWith every thought and with every breath."

You have me, Steve thinks, pressing his lips to Eddie's pulse point. It's not a kiss, not quite. It's something deeper. It's a promise. 

Eddie's hands come up to hold him there even as his voice carries through the drumbeat of Steve's heart in his throat, running fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, making him purr along to the melody. 

"But when I'm asleep I want somebodyWho will put their arms around me and kiss me tenderlyThough things like this make me sickIn a case like this, I'll get away with it."

When the song ends, Eddie's words faded out, replaced once again by the gentlest silence, Steve feels raw. Vulnerable. Open and exposed. But he also feels safe, and loved, buried in Eddie's skin and held there, as though Eddie is just as scared of fading away as Steve is. 

He lifts his head just slightly, enough to meet Eddie's eyes – only to find that they're closed, an expression so serene like Steve has never seen before. Mesmerised and overflowing with affection, he reaches out to trace the line of his brows, down to his cheeks and all the way to his lips, where his eyes are glued for a second. 

The thought of kissing Eddie is right there. The opportunity is, too. But he doesn't. He barely dares to move as it is. But he does roll them over the rest of the way until he lies comfortably on top of Eddie, and tucks his head underneath his chin, finding one of his hands and lacing their fingers. 

"You've got him," he breathes eventually. "That somebody. If you—“ 

"Yes," Eddie says, his other hand finding its way to the nape of Steve's neck to play with his hair again. "I want."

"Good." It's lame; far from what he wants to say. From what he has already said last night. It feels like they're doing this backwards, starting with the I love you and catching up with the slow build-up afterwards. "Good. Me, too." 

"Good," Eddie hums, and there's that smile again that Steve can't help but mirror. 

They fall asleep again like that even though it’s already late in the morning; cuddling and holding and cradling each other, still trembling slightly. Maybe that's what changing the world will do to you. Maybe that's the bravery more than the love. 

Or maybe it's just Steve and Eddie. Steve and Eddie. SteveandEddie. 

I love you. 

~*~

It takes a bit for Steve to relearn loving Eddie. To not associate it with tragedy and sadness and a bone-deep loneliness that'll leave him breathless even on the best of days. 

It takes a while for Steve to learn a whole new kind of breathlessness, a whole new kind of aching when it comes to Eddie. 

And Eddie's not much better than Steve, pulling away when Steve wants him closer, swallowing his words and needing a second, third, fourth try until he learns that he gets to love Steve now. 

Years of unrequited love, or feelings unreturned, of words put out into the universe with no one to receive them, are not easily or quickly unwritten. But every time Steve's breath gets lodged in his throat and he wants to run away, Eddie is right there to remind him of what they can have now. Every time Steve tries to be a little less of who he really is, Eddie is right there to coax him out of his head with gentle touch and a lot of hugs. 

Every time Eddie starts to doubt himself and all the ways he makes Steve the happiest person on the planet, Steve is right there with the words he only has for Eddie. Words that don't get stuck anymore. Words that finally get a recipient. 

~*~

Their first kiss, the first real kiss, doesn't happen that first morning. They spend the first week only holding each other, barely wanting to let go, hiding their vulnerabilities within each other. 

Steve is worried about it at first, seeing Eddie so quiet, so reverent, lacking his usual cheer, his energy and snarky comments. He asks about it one night, ready to prove right that he isn't and can never be enough for him, that all he will do is steal the things that make him Eddie. 

Eddie stops then, lifting Steve's chin with a finger when he's too scared, too ashamed, too vulnerable to meet his eyes on his own accord. 

"Stevie," Eddie says, his voice so gentle that Steve immediately feels stupid for doubting. "I have loved you for ten years. I've had you for three days. Let me bask in it. Let me be unable to be myself with how absolutely and utterly overcome I am with the knowledge that I have you now. That I get to hold you. That I get to kiss you and keep you and... God. I'm not unhappy. I'm so much the opposite of that that I'm not sure there's a word for it. Other than devoted. Smitten. Bewitched, body and soul."

Steve wants to kiss him then. Almost does, with the way they're just staring at each other, breathing the same air —air that smells like Eddie now. In the end, Eddie just holds him, brushing a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, his temple, and whispers, "Let me bask in it." 

And so they do. 

Wayne called Eddie not long after with the words, "Chrissy just told me the wedding's off. Please tell me that means what I think it means." 

Eddie just blushed, reaching for Steve, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Yeah, I, uh. I finally talked to Steve."

There was a very loud cheer on the other end that made Steve laugh, falling into Eddie's side, holding him tight, a weight falling off his shoulders knowing that Wayne was okay with them. 

You know, I always figured it would be you. 

No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me.

It made his eyes sting again, but he basked in the moment and in the knowledge that Wayne was on their side. Always has been, always will be. 

"You better come here on Sunday, and bring Robin and Chrissy, too." 

"Robs and Chrissy?" Eddie asked. 

"Oh, you're in for a treat. I'll see your asses on Sunday, boys." 

And with that, he hung up. Steve immediately went to call Robin, hopeful and giddy with Wayne's implication, knowing that Chrissy was Robin's person just like Eddie was his. 

"She loves me," Robin said, on the verge of tears, and Steve joined here right then and there. "She's– Steve. She's so– She... God!" 

"Yeah," Steve laughed at the ceiling above his bed, grinning because Robin sounded so happy, not even caring that she didn't have the right words for it, because he could hear Chrissy laughing in the background, too. Laughing and saying hi to him and interrupting Robin's ramblings and groans and giggles with kisses that always left her dumbstruck for a good two seconds each time. 

When the call ended, he went right back to the living room, where he and Eddie started watching Pride and Prejudice before, and fell right on top of him with a happy, happy smile. 

~*~

It happens at Wayne's, exactly one week after Eddie showed up at Steve's in the middle of the night. One week after the phone call. One week after I love you. 

It happens in the soft glow of the fairy lights Steve and Eddie helped him put up years ago. I happens after Wayne hugged him tight once more, after he pulled Chrissy to the side and promised her that she's still his kid, that he still loves her, and that he's happy to see her smile like that. After he promised the same to Robin.

It happens when Wayne's inside to refill their drinks and Chrissy and Robin are caught up in each other that they're blind and deaf to the rest of the world. When Steve turns to find Eddie looking at him with the softest, gentlest expression. 

"Eddie," he whispers, leaning in to rest their heads together, lacing their fingers and stroking his thumb along Eddie's palm.

"Yeah, baby?" 

Baby. It fills him with butterflies, with the urge to scream, to shout from all the rooftops that he loves Eddie, and more importantly, that Eddie loves him back! Baby. Baby.

"I love you." 

"Hmm. I love you more." 

No, you don't. Just longer. "Can I kiss you?" 

He can feel Eddie's little gasp before he leans in even closer, rubbing their noses together, cradling Steve's face with his free hand. "Please," he whispers. 

And Steve does. He captures Eddie's lips, pouring into it everything he feels and more. Sealing the promises he's made and all the ones he's yet to make. The promises to love and cherish Eddie. To be brave. To be there. To stay and keep and bask. 

It's nothing like their first kiss all those years ago. There is no question behind it this time. Only declarations, only promises, only the beginning of a shared future. 

And there are many, many more after this one.

🌷🤍🌷 THE END 🌷🤍🌷

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae @tuesdaycats @totoroinatardis @ilovebookshowboutyou @musical-theatre-gay @theluckyalien @copingmechanizm @srra @changelingbaby @sassygoop @obsessivelyme @r0binscript @hardboiledleggs @estrellami-1 @bisexualdisastersworld @space-invading-pigeon @swimmingbirdrunningrock @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @oxidantdreamboat @spilled-jar @phirex22 @littlemsterious @captaingigglyguinea @animecookie95 @sharingisntkaren @haluton @littlemsterious @animecookie95 @suddenlyinlove @bisexual-bilingual-biped @jinx-nanami @makewavesandwar @scheodingers-muppet @morcantinon @hexdbog @homosexualhomocide13

god i can't believe it's over. i thank you, every one of you, who cheered for me, cried with me, screamed and yelled at me, and stayed with me throughout this past week. i have no words right now other than thank you 🤍🌷 and i hope this is okay

[mxtxfanatic]

mdzs fandom before the untamed was so good i have so much resentment for that show for bringing in the worst people flooding everything with slop to the point where i keep liking danmei a secret

If you go to ao3 and read wangxian fics from the earliest to the latest, you can almost pinpoint exactly when cql hit the English-speaking fandom because 1) Wangxian’s dynamic changes, 2) Wei Wuxian’s potrayal in fics ubdergoes an extreme shift into what is now his mainstream fanon today, and 2) Jiang Cheng starts appearing. Not fanon!Jiang Cheng, but Jiang Cheng, period.

In the earliest fics, he is very rare to find, and where he appears, it is only a mention or a brief cameo. After cql, though? Suddenly he is a major character in fics. Suddenly every fic features him, even if it’s just through letters or Wei Wuxian playacting convos with him when he’s physically absent for whatever reason. Suddenly, “yunmeng bros,” “yunmeng trio,” “twin prides” takes off. Suddenly it’s Wen Qing siding with Jiang Cheng and berating Wei Wuxian for being a stupid idiot. Suddenly it’s Lan Wangji forcing Wei Wuxian to reconcile with his “brother,” if it isn’t Wei Wuxian threatening Lan Wangji to get along with Jiang Cheng or be dumped. Suddenly it’s weepy Wei Wuxian crippled by the guilt of having “stolen” affection away from Jiang Cheng as a child, of having “broken his promise” of eternal servitude brotherhood, a crime that needs the entire fic to rectify, even if the fic is about something else entirely. Suddenly it’s “if only Wei Wuxian had listened to Jianng Cheng’s advice (that he never gave), none of this would have happened!”

There is a palpable shift in how every character is treated once Jiang Cheng became a fandom favorite, and it’s actually made the experience of reading fics worse as a whole.

[oknowkiss]

my writing year in review: 2023

thank you to @sorrybutblog @wolfpants and @citrusses for the tag!! tagging in a few folks as well: @tackytigerfic @sweet-s0rr0w @nv-md @oflights @mintawasalreadytaken @vukovich @lumosatnight @emmalovesdilemmas @mallstars @moonflower-rose @dodgerkedavra @rainstormradish @m0srael @reserve @babooshkart @lqtraintracks @skeptiquewrites @eveningstruggle @maesterchill @geesenoises @peachydreamxx @saintgarbanzo for anything you'd like to round up!

i went into this thinking 2023 was a bit of a fallow year, output-wise, but looking at my stats page apparently i wrote 100k this year!! who could've known? not me. big thanks to everyone who supported me this year, whether by beta-ing, reading, commenting, or otherwise just listening to me moan. i'm quite excited for what's in store next year, including plenty more moaning. hope to see you all in 2024!

here's what happened in 2023: APRIL the sun, shining above you || dronarry || 14.5 k || E for the inaugural @dronarryfest!

Since joining up with the dragontamers, Draco counts his days in nights. Nights spent drinking in the commune mess, making poor choices he doesn't regret, for once. Nights he doesn't remember, and nights he wishes he could stop remembering.

Then there's that night in Spain, caught in the circle of Ron's arms. A year of nights in Norway, caught in the heat of Harry's gaze. His first night at the Burrow, caught in between them both. MAY proven lands || drarry || 2.8 k || E for @microficmay!

The thing about circles is, they always end at the start. OR: A story about falling in love at the end of the Earth. (told in 31 microfics -- this is the "director's cut") AUGUST the waiting || drarry || 43.5 k || E for @hd-wireless and @m0srael!

It’s been almost ten years since Draco Malfoy disappeared during a routine Curse Breaker training exercise. Harry, his partner in more ways than one, is determined to figure out why. As the past resurfaces and the present fades into confusion, Harry discovers the only thing more unreliable than memory is love.

DECEMBER jerk/off || drarry || 7k || E for @drarrymicrofic secret santa exchange and @m0srael!

“You’ve got my face on your face,” Malfoy says, contorting his – Harry’s – face into an expression it had definitely never made before.

“No, you’ve got my face on your face!” Harry insists, grimacing at the sound of Malfoy’s voice. Being in his body is not unlike operating a sad wooden doll. à bon chat || drarry || 35k || E for @hd-erised and @moonflower-rose

Draco Malfoy didn’t intend to lead a life of crime after the war. It’s just that being good had turned out so incomprehensibly boring.

Now he's thirty-five, a fully redeemed member of society, the darling of the wizarding social pages, and a newly minted consultant for Gawain Robards' Investigative Research division. In his spare time, he enjoys good whisky, casual sex, and moonlighting as an art thief. His biggest score yet is fast approaching and he's got everything planned down to the minute. Everything, that is, until the unexpected appearance of a newly-divorced Harry Potter. Now that Potter's in the picture, Draco's no longer certain if he's the pursuer or the prize.

[the-acid-pear]

Having thoughts about Davetrap... Honestly the fact that he's So sentient is so tragic to me. It's like he said he's still a person he just looks different. Even the fact that he still needs food and is eating rats (which he ripped foxy's leg to do so better, unforgivable) yet seems capable of leaving but thing is WHERE to, y'know... I think this is a reality for most non human characters in this game but him being in such a state of disrepair definitely doesn't help, i mean, he literally couldn't be sold off, something he was clearly upset about (I also like that he called the maze shit a gig like that's cute, that's just his job).

Like its just, Dave was never much of anything, at all, we don't even know if this guy has a fucking home, but he still had some things in his favor, he was still somewhat well put and social and shit, so for him to be left like this it's like... I said it like thrice but its tragic its just tragic, man OT2

[wolfywolfy]

Chapter 8 is posted!

Chapter Summary: What happens the morning after being caught in a compromising position? Nothing good, surely. Especially when you're surrounded by a bunch of tadpole-infested gossips, who may or may not be just the teeniest bit jealous.

Warnings: None for this chapter, but a little angst if you squint! Smut, blood, and some gore for other chapters, though.

Fic Summary:

Primrose is a druid, tree-hugger, and the de facto leader of their merry little band of tadpooled misfits. She's been completely isolated from society, living alone in the woods for who knows how long, and given her naivety, Astarion figured she was raised by wolves. Regardless, being a leader means she is a sturdy foundation for himself to latch on to, if he can manipulate her to care for him. She's prone to waxing poetics and altruistic to a fault, the perfect victim for his ministrations – so imagine his surprise when she turns out to be more complex than he gave her credit for. Why, exactly, has she been hiding from society? Prim carries herself as if she would never do any wrong, but when provoked, she's shockingly deadly. The more time he spends with her, the more he has a suspicion that there's something dark lurking beneath the surface…. Perhaps it's time to find out.

[gun-roswell]

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Star Wars: Ahsoka (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Barriss Offee & Ahsoka Tano, Barriss Offee/Ahsoka Tano Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Barriss Offee, Leia Organa Additional Tags: Ahsoka Week 2024, ahsokaweek2024, AU, what if, Angst, Reunions, Mission Op, Can they work it out? Series: Part 3 of Ahsoka Week 2024 series, Part 12 of Ahsoka Series Shorts Summary:

Barriss finds her way back to Ahsoka after all this time. Can things return to the way they were between them? If not, can they be cordial while working together?

Part of Ahsoka Week 2024 / Ahsoka Series Shorts series

@starwarspathfinders​

[a-wins-a-win]

i am supremely indecisive and need direction, so I’m putting this one to a tumblr poll ;

summaries and such under the readmore - feel free to send asks for more info <3

just to be clear, no matter the poll results i will be working on-and-off on smaller fics + my essays* and such anyway - the option is just there if people would be more interested in having shorter/less involved works more often, rather than just a scattering of one-shots for however long it takes me to wrangle a Project to somewhere i'm happy with to share it. * the essays are happening and will be happening, independently of whatever ends up happening with my fic writing, as well. it will again just boil down to focus and available research/writing time.

anyway! onto the Project summaries ;

forgive and forget (it’s all coming back to me now)

Jason was pretty certain he'd just end up working for his father in the end, but Ivy had managed to convince him that it was worth at least trying to find his work experience somewhere else. He had basically expected the crappy intern jobs - coffee runs, sorting files, and generally trailing after competent employees like some kind of lost puppy. What he hadn't expected, however, was for Peter goddamn Simmonds to have landed a co-op position at the same company.

post-canon canon divergence

eventual mcsimmonds

ivy is a major character too, i promise she gets her own b-plots

background lucadia

messy confusing feelings + cheating subplots

something stupid (like i love you)

A few days. Somehow, letting Lucas crash on Matt's couch for a few days turned into buying Lucas new clothes, turned into cleaning him up and helping with the job search. Which then turned into Matt making Lucas dinner and letting Lucas make him dinner in return, until dinner was a combined effort and light-hearted arguments about organizational systems. And it wasn't until their closets blurred together and Lucas started helping to pick out new drinking glasses that either of them realised they'd be happy if a few days lasted forever.

post-canon lucatt

roommates to friends to lovers type beat

in many ways they've grown and changed, in many ways they haven't

of course there's a lot of tension in the in-between stage where they're trying to figure out how to incorporate into each other's lives again, but eventually they end up falling into a cute domestic routine

there's something there in lucas and matt forgiving each other for the roles they played in/the ways they contributed to the general disaster that was their senior year (but Jason's suicide in particular)

as close to heaven as i’ll get

There wasn't a doubt in anyone's mind that Jason McConnell would do well at Notre Dame - 5 generations of top-level vampire hunters had come before him (and his father was quite insistent that AFTER him would come 5 more). The only thing that stood in his way was an entrance exam requiring a record of field experience.

Peter Simmonds understood the importance of following the rules imposed by the coven, really he did. But even so - something about the bright spots the stained glass windows of the church reflected onto the wet ground drew him in.

mcsimmonds vampire AU

Twilight/Supernatural-esque rural vibes + Southern Gothic inspiration

i get to fuck around with vampire folklore and religious imagery! and who doesn't love that?

a big chunk of inspiration for it was the concept of Peter seeing so much like. peace and community and what have you in this idea of the church involvement that he so desperately wants to be a part of, played against Jason's so desperately wanting to get out of it. if you see the vision.

just because [i’m] pretty

Over the years Ivy Robinson had been called a lot of things. Cutie, Angel, Pretty Baby, Slut, Whore, Bitch. Mostly she tried not to hold onto them too tight, not to think too deeply about how they felt in her mouth as she studied herself in the mirror. But occasionally something would stick. She just hadn't expected that something to be 'boyish'.

gay trans man ivy <3

a lot of times he is trying to explore/come to terms with himself through his art

although his romantic + sexual attraction to boys is obviously a cornerstone of his identity there'd also be largely platonic [& antagonistic & familial] relationship focuses

touch tank

A dramatic part of Peter wanted to let himself be bitter and jaded about his parents divorce, like every other seventeen-year-old main character. But the more sensible part of him knew that was unfair, and unrealistic - especially when it had led him to some of the prettiest, most interesting boys he had ever met.

good catholics <3 [my matt/peter/jason triad]

merfolk au! wherein jason is merfolk at the other two are not

set in a cliche small costal town , lots of cute vibes + also costal weather, because i love the rain

silly little subplots involving the other characters occur around the main story as well

[gendervapor14]

i left a comment i've been meaning to leave for weeks!!

huh? did i reply to any of my comments?

.....

no.

but i left a comment. progress has been made.

[57sfinest]

what is the forbidden harry and jean lore

cracking my knuckles before preparing to type the most deranged post in the history of the world

okay so listen. harry and jean are so unbelievably fucked up. their relationship is TERRIBLE for them both. it's toxic, it's abusive, it's deeply codependent and it's also the only thing either of them has.

here's the thing. the partnership starts off fairly normal- yes, harry is a shithead, he's not a good person, but neither is jean and harry doesn't treat him like shit right off the bat. harry starts off on his best behavior, because here's a new guy who's much younger and who he outranks: this is fresh meat, thrown into his enclosure. another can for him to open. someone new to help him bear his burdens until he inevitably throws them away. he's gotta be let in first, though, so he's playing the role of mentor or chill superior officer or whatever until jean relaxes around him and starts to let his guard down. because despite jean's apprehensions- he's heard about gool ol' dick mullen, after all- harry can be funny, kind, and very good at his job. so maybe everyone was wrong- maybe, to him, harry will be good. maybe this partnership will work out. jean finds himself liking harry and caring about him. harry catches onto this, because of course he does, and the backslide begins.

it starts off minor. more hangovers at work, a little speed off the bathroom mirror. but it's fine because they're still getting work done. harry snaps at him a little, but it's just a rough patch. it's okay. they're not just work partners anymore, they're friends. maybe they're more, although they'd never put a name to it. they go to each other's places and they talk and smoke and drink and shoot the shit about anything they can think of: the world, the pale, the cases. it's an easy thing. a dangerous routine. if jean starts drinking more, to match harry- it's fine. at least it's in company. and all the while harry is getting openly worse, getting completely hammered at work, having more outbursts than actual conversations, lashing out at everyone. jean is no longer safe from it. jean no longer abstains from it either. and it's still jean's responsibility as his partner to take care of him, to keep him going. harry does not usually seem to care about reciprocating, but that's not the point. it's jean's job and, unfortunately, he cares. he's not sure what he would do without harry, now. he's not sure what harry would do without *him*.

harry the can-opener realizes what they've become- codependent, inseparable- and starts spiraling rapidly. he has the freedom to, now. jean talks to him about the drinking, and harry tries to kick it, and jean really believes in him. believes in him when he fails, when he tries again a few weeks later. over and over again until harry stops trying. says he wants to get worse. and jean gets it, at first. only at first. he's depressed too, he understands the suicidal thoughts and tendencies, understands how easy it is to get trapped in an addiction. he knows how important his support is to harry's continued survival.

but it's like everything harry does is to hurt him. screams at him and threatens him and leverages anything he can against him, including very personal things he's pried out of him, then shows up at his door with tears in his eyes and a gun in his hand telling jean that he's sorry, he's never going to do it again, he's going to make sure of it. and jean, still raw and angry from their fights, invites him in, takes the gun from his hand and talks him down and drinks with him, because what else is there to do? jean will never lay down and take it, has no interest in being the better person anymore- he knows every little nasty detail of harry's life by now, and he's not shy about digging his nails into harry's scars- but when everything is said and done, when all the punches have been thrown, he's still going to be there. he's going to be around to bandage the knuckles harry just hit him with because this is it. there's nothing else for either of them.

it doesn't matter that harry lies to him- about what he's been doing, how he's feeling, about where their belongings end up or where the money went, about things he did on a case. it doesn't matter that harry provokes the shit out of him until he's screaming himself raw, then lays down and cries about it until *he's* the one apologizing. it doesn't matter that harry only gets worse, and that somehow he's the one blamed for it. every day they rip each other apart because at least that way they can feel something. it's easy to scream at someone knowing they'll scream back, and then come sleep in your bed anyway. neither of them is going to leave except by death, and they both know it.

there's a complete erosion of boundaries between them. luiga himself confirmed their codependency. if something was jean's, it was harry's too, and vice versa. everything was each other's business. there was nothing kept apart between them. harry cracked jean open and gutted him, so jean did the same to him. they understood each other *too* well, so they knew exactly how to hurt each other, and they did just that. and that's the sad part, that they were so completely exposed with one another- it could have been so good for them. harry could have been a better person and so could jean. they might have been able to heal together. but we see jean's ableist hostility towards harry in the ending: jean has lost all patience for harry. there is no sympathy left.

and you wonder: why, now, does jean call it quits? why, after several years of mutual destruction, does jean draw a line in the sand here? well, obviously- he's been rejected. harry told him to fuck off in martinaise, which of course was not new behavior, but usually harry would come back to cry and beg and plead with him not to leave him. and harry's not doing that. harry doesn't even know who he *is*. harry is running around with this guy he barely knows, and he's functional and they're not having screaming matches, and when harry does finally approach him, he just twists the knife right in by insisting this new guy is cooler. he thinks jean is an asshole now, and not in the way he did before where he thought it was fun to fuck with him. jean is nothing to him, in the most thorough and all-consuming way possible. harry doesn't even know his *name*.

so, fine. harry dumped him. harry's not coming back to him, and he's sure as hell not going to put in the work to rebuild that bridge, not when he should have burned it years ago anyway. and if that's how it's going to be, he's got some things to say. he's going to make it hurt for harry as much as it hurts for him. maybe he doesn't believe every single thing he says in the ending, or not fully, but it doesn't matter. he's going to say everything he can to hurt harry because harry is leaving him, and they already failed each other a long time ago.

[sneezydarliing]

hello!! i haven’t interacted with your blog much but i just rolled in from the last tigh//nari post you wrote (so good!) and saw you might be looking for requests? i’m still really nervous asking and not sure what i’m doing so no offense taken if you disregard!

anyway, i’d love to read some cy/no content? if you’re along w any ships (cynari, haino, etc) that’s totally cool. maybe like a [plant/flower] allergy situation when he visits the forest?

hope you’re well and thanks for sharing content <3

Thank you so much for the req!! I'm sorry for the wait, I really hope you enjoy!

reqs are open

Pairing: cynari

Words: 1044

CW/TW: sneezing content, mention of mess

Cyno had not anticipated anything special out of this trip to the forest. He was going only to see Tighnari- who had excitedly informed him of a new discovery made deep into the forest watcher’s patrolling area. The look on his friend’s face, combined with the eager swishing of his tail behind him, was more than enough convincing to get the mahamntra to venture into the greenery.

It’s quiet as he pads along the roughly and hastily made trail, leaving him with his own thoughts- excitement to see tighnari again, listen to him ramble on about whatever he had found, a slight apprehension at the possibility of this being dangerous- not that either of them could not hold their own, but tighnari was often so eager to research that he did not stop to think about any possible consequences to himself, and he hated seeing him in pain. Muddled in with these feelings, a slight but sudden itch in the back of his nose. He presses a knuckle against the side of it absentmindedly, just as a pair of ears perking up quickly catches his attention.

“You made it!” Tighnari calls out to him, tredging through ankle-deep tangles of weeds to meet him. There’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek, and a tangle in his usual well-kept tail. As Cyno nods his greeting, he cannot help but wonder how long he’s been out here. The other seems to be aware of it, occasionally flicking the appendage about in absent-minded frustration.

Tighnari leads him further into the forest, happily rambling on about the things they pass by and what his research has granted so far. Cyno can’t get himself to focus, the itch in his sinus suddenly alight, forcing his breath to hitch just once before calming again. He can almost feel Tighnari’s concerned frown, but he decides to keep quiet about it for now, to Cyno’s gratitude.

Suddenly, he’s stopped. Tighnari moves to the side, looking at Cyno with pride clear in his eyes. He’s meet with the sight of a large, blooming flower, encased in golden vines that seem almost-conscious, twitching at any movement around them. “I haven’t been able to touch it yet, and my elemental attacks have no effect. That’s why I brought you out here, I was hoping maybe electrical- Cyno?” His ramblings cease as he catches sight of him, hands cupped loosely in front of his face, usually serious expression crumpled into one of desperation as he fights off the need uselessly, breath stuttering until he can no longer fight it.

‘hEh-itSH! ‘tShi! hiH-” The third one is lost, leaving him sniffling, trying to rub the irritation out of his sinuses. “Archons, bless you! Are you feeling alright?” Cyno sniffles uselessly again, trying to will some of the congestion out of his voice before he speaks.

“I’m fine. You can romaine calm.” Tighnari groans in response. “You must be, if you’ve got the energy to make jokes. Anyways, can you try to hit ones of the vines with your elemental attack? Be gentle, please, and don’t damage the plant itself.” Cyno nods, saluting in a ‘yes sir’ gesture, as he prepares to follow instructions. He presses the back of his hand to his nose, scrunching up the appendage as he aims carefully. But he was unable to fight against his body and control it at once, sent foreward with another flurry of sneezes the moment he releases the energy, causing it to be sent foreward towards the flower. It’s reaction was instant, sending out a shower of pollen before curling into a ball, vines wound around it tightly. Cyno faintly hears a noise of frustration come from Tighnari, but he can’t focus, paralyzed with the awful tickle that came as the pollen surrounded him. He was in the direct line of fire, and he felt it, nostrils feeling alight as his eyes watered, he couldn’t even fight it, thrown into a desperate fit.

“haH’TSCHhi- KSHhiew! hih- hidT’SHHih! ‘idtSHhiew- sCHih!” They tore at his throat, raw and painful as his body tried desperately to release all of the pollen. He felt almost embarrassed, unable to do anything as Tighnari watched helplessly. “tignarihHh-tSHhi!” Even just his name seemed to break his stupor, the fox-tailed man rushing over and grabbing Cyno’s arm, bringing him somewhere- he could not even keep his eyes open long enough to tell, the lower half of his face buried in an arm he threw up to avoid spraying the other. He felt himself be gently led into a sitting position, half aware of the sun now beaming down on them.

His breath caught, leaving him helpless into a rough fit of coughing that didn’t seem to let him. He felt Tighnari’s hand on his back, rubbing comforting circles as he whispered encouraging phrases until the coughing finally let up. He leaned back against Tighnari, unable to resist the need to catch his breath. His face was wet with tears, nose running onto his upper lip. He roughly cleaned it up with the back of his wrist.

“There you go, you’re okay. Any trouble breathing?” Came the soft voice next to Cyno, reminding him suddenly of his blunder. Tighnari had been so eager to research, and he had messed it up. Guilt shot through him. “Sorry, ‘nari.” He pawed at his nose again while he spoke.

“It’s alright. I can bring somebody else another day.” Tighnari soothed, hands beginning to card through the others' hair. “Right now, we need to get you cleaned up. The pollen on your clothes won’t do you any good.” he stood quickly, reaching out a hand to Cyno, but he was distracted with the need to sneeze once again, raising a shaky hand in warning.

“hIh’tSChih!i’tsCHuh!” He sniffled once more as Tighnari waited patiently, before taking the hand offered to him, letting himself be pulled onto his feet.

“Hey, ‘Nari?” The forest watcher turned back to face him, “What is it?” “I’m very frond of you.” Tighnari huffed, turning back around and beginning to stalk off, stopping only a few paces in front of him. “I love you, too, Cyno.” Mahamatra grinned, catching up to his partner as they began the trek home, punctuated with the occasional sneezes.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

(Collapses on the ground in shame) I THINK I FORGOT TO COME AND ASK FOR MORE OF UR WIP WEDNESDAY FOOD. WHICH MEANS NO VAMPDREW FOR MEEEEE

I will lay here until next week. - @jtl-fics

WIP Wednesday (9/13) | Vampire Andrew AU

Once they get to the rental, Kevin climbs into the passenger seat. And Andrew drops his ass into the spot behind him, content to have the entire backseat to himself. He doesn’t bother with a seatbelt, opting instead to sit sideways with his back to the door and his legs on the seat in front of him. He leans against the seat and crosses his arms, hoping to catch up on sleep.

However, that proves impossible with the two fools in the front seats thinking incredibly similar, but different exy-related things. Can’t they turn their brains off for a bit? Andrew pushes his fingers into his ears, but it doesn’t help in the slightest. Of course it doesn’t. 

Andrew drops his hands back into his lap and wonders if the vampire who changed him could tell him how to turn it off. Even if he could, there’s no way Andrew could track him down. He doesn’t even remember what he looked like, only that he was at least mildly attractive the way all his hookups were.

Andrew had seen him at Eden’s and pulled him into the back alley and— After that, it’s blank. Zip, nada, nothing. Andrew doesn’t even remember if he got to blow the guy before he was bitten. Probably not. Andrew concentrates for a moment, trying to remember his face. Andrew thinks he may have had dark hair… but it’s all so hazy. 

His memory has never failed him, so he suspects that the vampire must’ve altered it somehow. Made him forget the most important details of the night, the bastard. Andrew’s read Anne Rice, it could be possible. Not knowing exactly what took place that evening is something that keeps Andrew up most nights. And that part was worse than waking up the next day with a burning throat and aching gums.

Andrew huffs out a sigh and curses his existence for the millionth time.

‘Andrew,’ Kevin thinks suddenly, grabbing the vampire’s attention. Andrew raises a brow and Kevin looks at him in the rear view mirror. ‘You okay?’

Andrew nods subtly, then says, “Turn the radio on.”

Kevin nods and does as he’s told. To Andrew’s relief, the music helps a bit and he’s able to rest at least his eyes if not his head. After a few songs, Andrew suddenly smells blood. His eyes snap open and he feels his fangs extend automatically.

“Stop picking at your cuticles,” he hisses over Kevin’s shoulder. And Kevin drops his hands into his lap.

“Sorry!”

<- previous | first | next->

[defectivehero]

cat and mouse

“The thrill of the chase consumes you,” the detective says aloud. There’s no one else in the museum, supposedly, but he can sense the thief’s presence. He tries to think of something else that may lure them into conversation. “It gives you an inflated sense of self.” 

“You forget yourself, detective,” the thief whispers, their breath hot on his ear. The detective can’t help but stiffen, although the thief’s proximity is only for a moment. Sure enough, the thief is soon standing a few meters away. “Trust me, if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” the thief asserts. The detective can’t exactly take comfort in that statement, for obvious reasons. He supposes the words would mean something if the thief were trustworthy but, unfortunately, they are not. The thief’s beliefs and attitudes are fickle. The detective could be in their favor one moment and on the chopping block the next. No sense in rationalizing that kind of waverance. 

“You’re a thief, not a murderer,” the detective feels the need to say regardless. The thief levels them with an inquisitive gaze for a rather long time. Just when he begins to twitch under the pressure, they look away. 

“Or so they say,” the thief says casually, making an encompassing motion with their hands. The gleam in their eyes speaks to their amusement, but the dark smile on their face is pure malice. 

“You don’t want me dead,” the detective backtracks to the thief’s prior statement. He stares at them, trying to find hints of their thoughts in their posture. Somehow, the thief is a blank slate. There is nothing memorable in their frame or their expression. The detective can’t help but think that they’re practiced at hiding behind a facade. 

“Not just yet,” the thief answers, crossing their arms over their chest. They bring a hand to their chin in evident contemplation. “Might have to ask again in a few weeks.”

“You're going to the Renaissance art gallery,” the detective realizes aloud, shooting the thief a questioning look. For a long moment, the burglar just stares at them in silence. The detective frowns and tries to think of the error in his statement. There will be a gallery in exactly three weeks in this very museum. The thief’s eyes had flitted about the space as they uttered the phrase: “a few weeks.” The detective put two and two together. It was a simple deduction, really. 

“Very clever, detective,” the thief then remarks, falling to a crouching position. They mess with something metallic in their hands. The detective wants to identify what it is, but the object disappears in the blink of an eye. The thief must sense his gaze and they smirk. “You truly are as sharp as they say.”

“Perhaps not,” the detective sighs. His next words slip from his lips with little effort. “You always seem to allude me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” the thief remarks. Before the detective can so much as flinch, there are hands pulling at his collar. To his surprise, when he looks down, he finds that the collar of his coat is folded down. The detective scowls and squints at the thief, who materializes in front of him within a few seconds. Was that really necessary? 

“You have some sort of superpower,” the detective announces instead. The cogs and gears in his mind are beginning to turn- albeit a bit more slowly than he’d like. The thief remains infuriatingly silent. “Enhanced speed... Agility?”

“You’ll get there, eventually,” the thief smiles understandingly, which is a strange expression to witness. Their gaze has yet to move from the detective’s face and it’s starting to throw him off. “I have faith.”

“Coming from you, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.” The detective frowns. 

“I’m offended, dear detective,” the thief chuckles. They procure a golden coin out of seemingly nowhere and spin it on the tip of their finger. The detective becomes so focused on the coin that it takes them a few moments to process what the thief says next. “My faith is the eighth wonder of the world.” The detective lets out a choked laugh, resisting the compelling urge to facepalm. 

“Ah, so you can play along. Good to know... for future reference.” The thief remarks, the mischievous grin on their face only increasing. The detective takes a deep breath. “Well. As fun as this has been, I really must get going.”

The detective doesn’t know what to say, so he settles for remaining quiet. The thief maintains eye contact for a bit, as if searching for something in his expression. The thief then nods and their image phases for the briefest of moments. A hand slips through the detective’s for the briefest of moments. The detective looks down, only to find that he’s now grasping a single rose. The thief’s laugh echoes throughout the halls of the museum. It seems that, in the detective’s distraction, they managed to escape. The detective can’t quite summon the frustration that he should be feeling. 

When he makes it back to his office, the detective places the single rose in a vase on his desk and resolutely pretends not to think about the alluring thief. 

©2023, @defectivehero All Rights Reserved. 

apparently, a performer gives a rose to the person that they dedicate their performance to! [I definitely did not just learn of that through an ace attorney fic]

also, it pissed me off that “waverance” isn’t a word so i made it one. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  grammar is my bitch. 

finally... listening to gimme!gimme!gimme! by abba while writing this was THE MOVE. the!!!!!! move!!!!!

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[seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana]

@megatraven

I was going to put this in your ask box bc I didn’t intend for it to be long….but it is and I have to put it as it’s own post lol.

So Do you remember the Hercules song fic of “Love Me I Beg” and breakdown for how it fits him? If not here it is again. When I made that post, I was thinking of doing a fic for Hercules and MC friendship and everything that I mentioned…but it’s not coming together properly. The only part I have done, which I thought would be nice to share, is a scene where MC and him are arguing about something he did or said. Like how he believes he himself is not as great as others bc he’s a demigod (even tho he doesn’t say it directly like that bc of pride and he has to be a Man and can’t be emotional) and MC will not stand for it. She may not like him very much, but she sees the person in him (though it’s difficult to) and she sees the insecurity and she hates how it contorts him and hurts him and others. His own feelings hurt others around him, whether he truly believes that or not or doesn’t even realize it.

They get into the argument of MC saying he shouldn’t hate on humans or monsters bc he sees them as different and ‘weak’, because he’s just been raised to see things that way and has this insecurity fueled by the others around him for millennia. He can change and be different and can alter his view and be better. But he keeps arguing on and on, and at some point I have the dialogue of MC getting fed up and pushed past her kindness saying,

“I don’t see a hero in you, all I see is a MONSTER!”

And then she leaves him with that slap in the face. Not physical…though I have considered it to happen to stand as a waking up call. But anyways it hits him hard mainly bc he’s all about taking auras and has taken monsters’ aura (and she knows about this. In this AU I see her being close friends with basically everyone so she knows the stories) but he understands she’s not talking about a monster, but a MONSTER MONSTER. An evil creature, and not a Hero he believes he is. At least, in my head Hercules sees himself as that because isn’t he Zeus’s hero? Like in literal terms like how Nyela was Aphrodite’s hero, isn’t Hercules Zeus’s hero? If not, then let’s pretend he is lol.

Anyways, it really hits him and makes him think of how he’s been raised. AND the other really hitting dialogue that makes him mad (but also really think™️ about things) is MC literally saying, “Your family has failed you,” bc she sees his opinions, learns more about the gods’ views from him, and begins to see the turmoil and problems he has and the harshness and ugliness of the gods and and see the awful ways he was raised and she can’t help but compare it to how her mother was so loving and accepting and encouraging and how his family SHOULD be like that and AGH. MC may not like him, but she wants to help. But she also is like “and I mean if you could give the auras back…” since she loves the monsters in my AU lol.

But, yeah, I just have these two pieces of dialogue (and a few others if you’d like to hear about them) and kinda ideas for them. That I need to write one day bc it’s one of the thoughts in my head constantly and I need to get it out😭.

And I also hope you enjoy your vacation Meg💙. You deserve it🥺💙💙💙💙.

And side note that’s not too important: Eros is the one MC vents to bc he’s a worm that hasn’t left my mind yet so rn he’s the romance for me. Those fics for him I mentioned I AM working on as well lmao.

[artingstarvist]

.

[citree]

I've been reading @i-dropped-the-chief's fic Scales, Gleaming In The Dark, and the latest chapter was so iconic it punched though my artbock and put a pen in my hand. I HAD to draw something to capture this charming family get-together 😆😆💖